Of weddings and Scottish accents
16.10.08, 6:42 pm

MUST SIT AND WRITE AN ENTRY NOW WITH PHOTOS. If I don�t write it now, then it won�t get written until after the weekend, and who knows what life-changing events could happen in the meantime, rendering trip to Newcastle unimportant. Chance of life-changing event is admittedly massively slim, but still. Have just been to the Co-op on the way home from work and bought blueberries, houmous and bread with seeds in it, in the vague and insane hope that together they constitute a sound tea.

Anyway, before I get into the frankly horror-tinged trip to the Toon, I�ll update you on my neverending health status. Went to see my consultant last Thursday, who was a tall, thin man with glasses, who seemed continually amused by me in a sort of pitying, oh-look-at-that-confused-toddler sort of way. Anyway, I have the following things:

1. Co-dominance of my coronary arteries, which is not a problem in any way, and is just an interesting factette as only 5% of the population has it.
2. Tricuspid regurgitation, i.e. a bit of back-flow from one of my heart valves, but as it�s only mild then it�s not a problem, and affects quite a few people.
3. L-V banding of the left ventricle. As far as I�m aware, this is a variation of normal, and means that the layers of my mayocardium have a slightly ruffled edge. Now, there�s apparently a fatal heart condition called left ventricular noncompaction, where the edges are massively ruffled and look a bit screwed up. Therefore I could have an MRI to look closer, but the consultant assures me that I don�t have this, as it would be massively more noticeable than a slightly ruffled edge, and the CT scan said that my ventricular wall looked normal, which wouldn�t be the case if I had the noncompaction as it develops during puberty and would therefore very much be here by now.

So I�ve basically been given the all-clear, and don�t have to mooch over to the Northern ever again (hopefully).

Okay, onto more interesting events. So, Becky came down on Thursday night, and met James for the first time. He got a massive seal of approval, like a freakishly big one, which makes me think she�s eyeing us up for marriage or something (FORESHADOWING). The next morning I packed, and we hoofed it down to the tram stop in Hillsborough and went over to MeadowHell to get on the MegaBus. I slept through a lot of the three hours of MegaBus fun, adopting my embarrassing open-mouth-nodding-head technique, Becky informs me. Finally got to Newcastle, then took the Metro to Mel�s work place, and then was driven back to Mel�s house. Spent the night cooking, watching Harry Potter and drinking frankly revolting wine that Mel claims was free.

Saturday morning we took a disgraceful amount of time to get ready, especially as Becky and I became mesmerized by the toy keyboard that Mel was giving a relative�s baby for its birthday. Finally dragged ourselves into Newcastle just before lunchtime, and then went down to the Quayside to take many a photo beside the bridges. We then bought a hearty lunch from Greggs, and ate it by the river, before going off to be cultural by going in the Baltic art gallery. One of the exhibitions consisted of a huge room that was pitch black, bar a few patches of dappled light, which completely freaked out the claustrophobia gene. Mel had to lead me around gently by the hand, whilst Becky walked on ahead, claiming that she didn�t need to be attached to anyone else, before walking smack into a wall. It was a completely unfun experience, and has only increased my hatred for contemporary art.

Rest of the afternoon was spent shopping. Went into a coffee shop for a big mug of tea as our feet were killing, which is when Becky decided to drop her horrifying bombshell of news. She and her boyfriend Nick, who she�s been with for nine months, are getting married in June. Apparently they�ve been talking about getting engaged since seven months, and the reason the magical month is June is because that�s when Nick�s house lease is up, so they can move straight in with each other. I�m sorry, but of all the stupid, retarded plans in the world... NINE MONTHS! Christians drive you absolutely crazy, I swear to God. I know she can�t have sex until after marriage, but don�t just jump straight in to rectify that. Mel managed to cover up the shock a lot better than I did, and consequently the next morning Becky and I had a �clearing the air� chat, where I told her how worried I was that she was going to lock herself into a marriage that she couldn�t get out of, due to not knowing Nick well enough. She told me that it was okay, because God had said that she was making the right decision. OH, WELL THAT�S OKAY THEN. Who is going to pay for this wedding? Why the massive rush? Why? First thing Mel said to me when we were on our own, after initial ranting, was �Oh God, do you think there�ll be alcohol at the wedding? The last Christian wedding that I went to had no alcohol at all.� Don�t think I�ll be a bridesmaid, unless she has five or something. Plus I�m a raging heathen.

Spent Saturday evening shamefully gorging ourselves on X Factor and lusting over Cheryl, and then Mel and I randomly baked whilst Becky was asleep on the sofa. I got quite drunk on beer, and then suddenly my friend Rich rang me (uni friend Rich) to tell me that he had just gotten engaged about an hour ago. Very cute as he�s been living with her girlfriend for an age and they�re incredibly sweet together, though the wedding isn�t going to be for a year and a half as they have to save up. So yes, two engagements in one day.

Sunday morning we went for a walk in some quaint idyllic village in the sunshine, before suddenly having a freak out as Becky had gotten the bus times wrong and tearing back to Mel�s house to pack. All ended up as a big stress for nothing, as the MegaBus was forty minutes late anyway. Got back to Sheffield finally, then lovely James picked us up, dropped Becky off at the station, and then drove me home and cooked a lovely tea.

Still completely knackered by whole weekend, to be honest, but it was a completely cracking few days. Here�re some photos, and then a video of us at the end, twatting about in Newcastle station. My voice appears to go up by nine octaves under the strain of an authentic Scottish accent.

Oh God. Maybe I�ll blame that whole video on a mad LSD trip.

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